


Knitting Him Into Submission

by TheNerdyGrinch_01



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Helicarrier (Marvel), Implied/Referenced Torture, Interrogation, Knitting, SHIELD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:09:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22174582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNerdyGrinch_01/pseuds/TheNerdyGrinch_01
Summary: The door to the room opened, but Daniels didn't look up as the newcomer stepped inside, closing the door behind themselves before sitting down on the second chair. There was some rustling, the newcomer shifting around in their seat for a bit, then stilling.Silence.
Kudos: 4





	Knitting Him Into Submission

Interrogation Room Seven or IR7 was a quite small, rectangular room with just enough space for a modest table and two chairs.

In the chair in the back of the room sat a young man, his wrists cuffed to the arms of his chair.

He was relatively tall, though his slumped posture made him look small, his lankiness furthering the impression of someone weak and surely not threat enough to warrant having the Avengers sent after him. His darkblonde hair hung in greasy strands around his downturned face, hiding his eyes and adding to his overall pathetic look.

Nobody who would have seen him would have thought him to be involved in the nine terroristic bombings that had happened around the world in the past months. Seemingly unconnected, as none of the individual bombers had any connection to each other, it had taken S.H.I.E.L.D. quite some time to find out that they had all been supplied by the same man, one Thomas “Tom“ Daniels, history student by day and dealer of explosives by night, and several days more to find out where he was hiding. Sending in the Avengers – who had been terribly bored and in dire need of some action – to retrieve the culprit.

The door to the room opened, but Daniels didn't look up as the newcomer stepped inside, closing the door behind themselves before sitting down on the second chair. There was some rustling, the newcomer shifting around in their seat for a bit, then stilling.

Silence.

The only sound in the small room was the shifting of some kind of fabric, and the rhythmic sound of something metal clanging against metal.

Finally Daniels looked up, seemingly annoyed at the lack of words being hurled his way, his mouth opened to let loose a sarcastic remark, about the hospitality of secret government organisations maybe, but no sound came forth.

He stared flabbergasted at the woman in front of him.

She was rather small, petite with chestnut brown curls pulled into a ponytail high on the back of her head. Her almond-shaped dark grey eyes were focused on the metal knitting needles in her hands which she was currently using to continue knitting forest green yarn into a some kind of item that could not yet be identified.

The woman, a S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent most likely, though looking nothing like any of her colleagues Daniels had seen on his journey to and through the Helicarrier as she was wearing a fluffy light blue sweater she had most likely knitted herself, was studiously ignoring the prisoner at the other end of the small table in favor of counting her mesh, and so the man decided to have some fun and see wether he could get a rise out of her.

„Are you here as my babysitter?“, he asked, sneering at her.

He was ignored.

„Is it because you're not good enough for anything else but providing a steady income of coffee and copying the documents of  _ important _ Agents? Must be exciting, to be let in into some kind of action, even if it's just to babysit me.“ He snorted derisively.

Still the Agent did not react, instead beginning her next row.

„Or did you do something and are now being punished by your superiors? 'S that it?“, Daniels tried again, growing impatient with the lack of response. But after all his following statements had seemed to fall on deaf ears, he decided to change his tactics.

_ Well, if she ain't reacting to words, maybe a taste of her own medicine might do the trick. _ He snorted.  _ What was it? Fighting fire with fire? Either way she won't be getting anything from me. _

Shortly he asked himself wether they would resort to more “traditional“ means of acquiring information from an unwilling enemy. He gulped, then told himself that it didn't matter. He was going to be strong.

He had to.

And so silence fell in Interrogation Room Seven, nothing to be heard but the sounds of the Agent's knitting.

Nearly two hours went by, though there was no clock in the room that would have told Daniels so, and therefore he only knew that he had been silent for long enough to be growing impatient again. Why was the woman not asking questions? Shouldn't she be doing that?

He fidgeted in his chair, uncomfortable.

He needed to pee.

No matter. It wasn't  _ that _ much of a problem yet. He could endure.

Another half-hour went by in silence, before Daniels shifted in his seat again, crossing his legs in an effort to put pressur against his bladder as to not wet himself. It was getting difficult to hold back.

More time went by. This time the silence was interrupted not only by the sounds of the Agent's knitting but Daniels' fidgeting as well, who was shifting in his chair because he just couldn't keep still any longer.

And then he put aside his pride by asking: „Can I go to the toilet, please?“ He bit back his comment about the stains that would be hard to get out of the wooden chair. As if they cared about that! Also, he had to be as polite as possible if he wanted even a  _ chance _ of having his request granted.

„There is a bathroom adjacent to your cell“, the woman replied, not looking up from her needlework. „You can use the toilet there once we're done here.“ Her voice was smooth, kinda deep for a woman's, and held no emotion whatsoever.

Daniels groaned. He couldn't tell her what she wanted to hear, but he also didn't desire to humiliate himself in front of anyone by loosing control over his bladder. Not the Agent who hadn't even told him her name, and not those other Agents that were doubtlessly waiting for his confession from the other side of the one-way glass window in the wall to his right.

Another few minutes went by, before Daniels had  _ the _ idea that would hopefully help himself.

„Okay, alright! I confess!“ When the woman neither raise her head to look at him nor, in fact, said anything, he continued. „It was me who sold those bastards the explosives so they could blow themselves up!“ That they had blown up others with them he didn't say – they already knew that and it might be better for him if he glossed over the more unpleasant facts of the whole affair.

„We already knew that, Mister Daniels“, the Agent said when it became clear that he would not say more, still unwaveringly focused on that  _ thing _ of forest green yarn in her hands.

Daniels clenched his teeth. His bladder gave a twinge, as if spourning him on. He didn't know what more he could say without speaking of those things he just couldn't speak of. He was a miserable liar – how was he supposed to fool a bunch of Secret Agents?! And what if they chose to punish him for lying? He had no desire to be tortured. But confessing was no option either!

In the end his next course of action was decided for him when a drop slipped through his tight grasp of control and into his pants.

He broke.

* * * * *

„He is waiting for you“, the S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent said, opening one of the many unassuming doors in the long corridor to admit the team of “Earth's Mightiest Heroes“, tired from their overly long debrief session into the room bejond.

„Hey, Mad-Eye“, Tony Stark greeted, striding into the small room. „Why exactly are we here?“

Nick Fury, standing by the big window in the wall to their right, slowly turned around to face the band of misfits making up the “Avengers“, lifting his eyebrow in Stark's direction.

„You are here because of Thomas Daniels.“

„Did something happen?“, Steve asked, worry tinting his voice.

„See for yourself“, Fury said, gesturing for them to step to the oblong window overlooking Interrogation Room Seven. They did, peering into the room next door, where aforementioned man was sitting, his body held stiff enough to make his muscles tremble slightly, as he talked hurriedly, desperation written in his face as a few tears leaked out of his eyes.

Opposite to the broken down figure of Daniels sat a young woman in a light blue sweater, handmade by the looks of it, calmly knitting on something resembling a shirt or jacket, if one applied a lot of fantasy to ones observation.

She didn't look up even once as Daniels spilled all his dirty secrets, a story involving lots of blackmail by a strange man calling himself the “Godfather“ - „Pfffh! Such a cliché.“ „Shut up, Tony.“ – as well as many explosives and a severe lack of college funds.

His words were carried into the room holding the Avengers and Shields Director by means of a speaker, letting them hear everything as clear as if there wasn't a wall between them.

„Can I go to the toilet now?“, Daniels asked as soon as he had finished his story, his voice small and tight, slightly trembling.

Finally, the female Agent looked up, gazing intently into his eyes. Then she nodded. „A coworker will bring you there shortly.“ Then she stood up, gathering her yarn and the knitted  _ something _ in her hands, before leaving the room as another Agent stepped in to free Daniels from his shackles.

The door opened, and everyone turned around to look at the Agent coming in.

„This is Irene Chesney“, said Fury, introducing the newcomer to the curious group of superheroes. „Our Interrogation Specialist.“

„She didn't even do anything but knitting!“, Stark protested, as so often trying to rile the people around him up. Though he was slightly intrigued by the woman who had made their latest catch sing like a bird without seemingly any effort at all.

„A good interrogator doesn't have to go to great lengths in order to achieve results. Violence is for beginners“, the Agent replied, her voice smooth and level.

Tony harrumphed, then narrowed his eyes, snatching the needlework out of her hands. „And what is that even supposed to be?“, he asked, raising one of his eyebrows mockingly. „It can't be sweater. Maybe a jacket? But what's up with that collar and opening?“ He looked up inquiringly. The faces of the others ranged from slightly amused over exasperated to contemplating the item in his hands.

„It looks more like a straight-jacket....“, Tony mused, looking up at Agent Chesney who had made no move to get her work back.

She smirked lightly. „That might be because it is.“

Tony blanched a bit at that, then threw the supposed hand-knitted straight-jacket back into the waiting hands of it's maker, who nodded once, and with a parting „Director. Avengers.“ left the room.

There was silence after the door had closed.

Then Tony asked, hope in his voice: „Do you think she was joking?“

Natasha cuffed him on the back of his head.

**Author's Note:**

> I researched the psychological properties of colours and this is what I gathered: 
> 
> \- Blue: the colour of the mind, essentially soothing, stronger blues stimulate clear thought; lighter, softer blues calm the mind and aid concentration; it is also the colour of clear communication, trust, efficiency, serenity and logic
> 
> \- Green: restful to the eye as it needs no adjustments; it is the colour of balance, harmony, refreshment, reassurance, peace and universal love
> 
> So Agent Irene Chesney is not only using her superior pokerface and patience (and her bladder of steel!) but sneaky mind-tricks to influence her poor victims into a calm mindspace and loquacity - how badass is that?! Though maybe I'm not suited to make an unbiased statement about the BAMF-level of my own OC's....
> 
> Anyway - Thanks for reading!


End file.
